s in for in
the way of trouble, he looked at him as a man should, squarely in the
eyes, and allowed his look to convey as plainly as a look can that in
him would be found staunchness, integrity, reliability--in fact a
friend in need. Mrs. Arbuthnot was very much flushed, Mr. Wilkins
noticed. He had not seen her flushed like that before. "Well, I'm
their man," he thought.

Lotty's greeting was effusive. It was done with both hands.
"Didn't I tell you?" she laughed to Rose over her shoulder while
Frederick was shaking her hands in both his.

"What did you tell her?" asked Frederick, in order to say
something. The way they were all welcoming him was confusing. They
had evidently all expected him, not only Rose.

The sandy but agreeable young woman didn't answer his question,
but looked extraordinarily pleased to see him. Why should she be
extraordinarily pleased to see him?

"What a delightful place this is," said Frederick, confused, and
making the first remark that occurred to him.

"It's a tub of love," said the sandy young woman earnestly; which
confused him more than ever.

And his confusion became excessive at the next words he heard--
spoken, these, by the old lady, who said: "We won't wait. Lady
Caroline is always late"--for he only then, on hearing her name, really
and properly remembered Lady Caroline, and the thought of her confused
him to excess.

He went into the dining-room like a man in a dream. He had come
out to this place to see Lady Caroline, and had told her so. He had
even told her in his fatuousness--it was true, but how fatuous--that he
hadn't been able to help coming. She didn't know he was married. She
thought his name was Arundel. Everybody in London thought his name was
Arundel. He had used it and written under it so long that he almost
thought it was himself. In the short time since she had left him on
the seat in the garden, where he told her he had come because he
couldn't help it, he had found Rose again, had passionately embraced
and been embraced, and had forgotten Lady Caroline. It would be an
extraordinary piece of good fortune if Lady Caroline's being late meant
she was tired or bored and would not come to dinner at all. Then he
could--no, he couldn't. He turned a deeper red even than usual, he
being a man of full habit and red anyhow, at the thought of such
cowardice. No, he couldn't go away after dinner and catch his train
and disappear to Rome; not unless